ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Growing up in Kansas City, Missouri, where a twenty-minute drive can get you to wide, open fields of corn and wheat, I was always fascinated by farms. Fascinated, but not, shall we say, knowledgeable. Huge thanks to the farmers and experts who instructed me on the realities of farming, both during the ’80s farm crisis and now: Charlie Griffin of the Kansas Rural Family Helpline; Forrest Buhler of the Kansas Agriculture Mediation Service; Jerrold Oliver; my cousin Christy Baioni and her husband David, a lifelong Arkansas farmer. A giant debt of gratitude goes to Jon and Dana Robnett: Jon not only let me play farmer for a day on his Missouri lands, he answered endless questions about farming—from grain elevators to bull castration. He stopped short of advising me exactly how to sacrifice a cow in a satanic ritual, but I forgive him that bit of good taste.
My brother, Travis Flynn, one of the best shots in the Missouri-Kansas region, was incredibly gracious with his time, advising me on both the period and personality of guns and taking me out to shoot everything from a 10-gauge shotgun to a .44 Magnum—thanks to his wife, Ruth, for putting up with us.
For my crime-scene questions, I turned once again to Lt. Emmet B. Helrich. For rocking, I turned to Slayer, Venom, and Iron Maiden. My cousin, lawyer Kevin Robinett, answered my legal questions with his signature mix of wit and brains. Huge thanks to my uncle, the Hon. Robert M. Schieber, who has suffered my gruesome, strange Dark Places queries for two years, and always takes the time to talk out what could happen, what might happen, and what would likely happen when it comes to the law. His judgment has been invaluable. Any errors regarding farming, firearms, or the law are mine; I hope my fellow Kansas Citians will indulge my few fictional liberties regarding good ole KCMO.
On the publishing side, thanks to Stephanie Kip Rostan, whose good humor, smarts, and sensibility I rely on. Cheers to my editor Sarah Knight, who both challenges and trusts me—a lovely combination—and knows how to show a girl a good night on the town. In the United Kingdom, Kirsty Dunseath and her gang at Orion are endlessly kind. A final thanks to the inimitable Shaye Areheart, who took a chance on me a few years back!
I have a lovely group of friends and relatives who offer constant encouragement. Special thanks to Jennifer and Mike Arvia, Amie Brooks, Katy Caldwell, Kameren Dannhauser, Sarah and Alex Eckert, Ryan Enright, Paul and Benetta Jensen, Sean Kelly, Sally Kim, Steve and Trisha London, Kelly Lowe, Tessa and Jessica Nagel, Jessica O’Donnell, Lauren Oliver, Brian Raftery, Dave Samson, Susan and Errol Stone, Josh Wolk, Bill and Kelly Ye, and the delightful, talented Roy Flynn-Nolan, who helped craft beautiful sentences like: nfilsahnfiojfios343254nfa.
To my big Missouri-Kansas-Tennessee family: the Schiebers, the Dannhausers, the Nagels, the Welshes, the Baslers, the Garretts, the Flynns, and my grandma Rose Page. My aunt Leslie Garrett and my uncle Tim Flynn offer particular support and a lot of illuminating thought to my “gonzo feminist” writing.
To my in-laws: James and Cathy Nolan, Jennifer Nolan, and Megan and Pablo Marroquin, for always being so nice about the book, for making me laugh at unexpected times, and for letting me eat all your desserts. I couldn’t have lucked into a funner family. And no, funner is not a word.
And to my super-friend writing group: Emily Stone has a brilliant eye for detail and reminds me to celebrate during the sometimessloggy act of writing. Scott Brown reads and then reads more, and always makes me feel quite brilliant. Plus he knows when to stop writing and go visit haunted chicken houses in Alabama.
To my parents, Matt and Judith Flynn. Dad, your humor, creativity, and kindness keep me in awe. Mom, you are the most gracious, generous person I know and someday I will write a book in which the mother is not a) evil or b) killed. You deserve better! Thank you both for the company on various Missouri-Kansas road trips, and for always letting me know I make you proud. A kid couldn’t want more than that.
Finally, thanks to my brilliant, funny, giant-hearted, super-hot husband, Brett Nolan. What do I say to a man who knows how I think and still sleeps next to me with the lights off? To a man who asks me the questions that help me find my way? To a man who reads voraciously, makes a mean gumbo, looks smart in a tux, and whistles better than Bing? To a man who’s as old-school cool as Nick Charles, for crying out loud! What do I say about us? Two words.